The Dragon Slayer's Awakening
by nierest
Summary: After killing the red dragon and challenging the hoards of monsters in the sky, Caim finds himself awake in a new world. Four strangers- Chrom, Lissa, Frederick and Robin- find him in a field and decide to take him along with them.
1. Awakening

Request: Can you do a crossover of Caim going to Fire Emblem Awakening world after the ending where he killed Angelus? I want see how characters react to him being so bloodthirsty and ruthless.

I hope this fits all the criteria! This takes place after ending c in Drakengard, where Caim kills Angelus and runs off into a bright light outside the altar.

* * *

 _"A pitiful child shall defy the hands of the gods, and a door will close."_

The last thing Caim remembered was the sky. A blinding white sky, plagued by thousands of dragons. A want to slay them all, and the red dragon's final words; "You have become strong."

Now he was here.

He woke up with a start, gasping heavily and sitting straight up. He patted himself down, in complete disbelief at the fact that he was alive. He was _alive_ , shaken to the core, but alive. His rough hands covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle his cries of glee. He had escaped his fate—but what of the Union? What of Midgard? What of the _world_? Suddenly his relief seem so misplaced. Did he kill all the dragons? He slayed the red dragon, that was for sure. His hands came to rest at his damaged breast plate, hovering over his heart. The weight he felt in his chest was unusual; it was not so long ago his heart was connected to the red dragon he killed, lessening the heaviness in his breast. To him, his heart was an unnecessary burden that just weighed him down; unnecessary feelings that got in the way of his vengeance. Vengeance… how could he exact revenge when he didn't even know where he was? His brows furrowed, a deep pit in his stomach forming. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't Midgard.

Caim awoke in a field of wild grass, trees sparsely littered across the green pastureland. The grass sprung up to the prince's chest, and swayed effortlessly in the calm, foreign breeze. Tall mountain ranges grazed the sky with their jagged heads, cutting away at the thin clouds above. This peaceful field was definitely nowhere near the Imperial City—such is evident in the undeniable peace that radiated from the field. The fallen prince sat alone, wondering if he had died and gone to heaven. He quickly dismissed the thought; he had killed far too many to be anywhere else but hell. He scoffed, the thought of the gods banishing him reminding him of Verdelet. Caim was finally alone, _finally_ without the hierarch's dreadful warnings and woes, and finally away from the annoyances that were his allies. The only one he could moderately stand was Seere, whose behaviour he excused by the fact that the small boy was but a child. Leonard and Arioch, however, he was glad to be away from. To think so badly of the dead was surely a sin, but a sin he cared not for. He sighed, letting himself fall once more into the bed of grass. He breathed in the fresh air, taking in the peaceful surrounds. Just where was he? Why was he here? These thoughts troubled the young prince, but what troubled him most was what became of Midgard. This place was so different from his, he wondered if he had, perhaps, entered another world. He smirked at the idea, laughing at the thought. He didn't deserve to start over in another world, and he wouldn't allow himself to. There were still dragons he needed to kill, parents he needed to avenge. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and allowing himself to be enveloped by the weeds and tallgrass. The scent of the earth washed over him, a smell so different from the blood-soaked battlefield and the gardens of Caerleon's castle. Yet he welcomed it, and surrendered himself to the heat of the sun and the tickling of ladybugs on his gloved fingertips. He knew he didn't deserve this feeling of peace, but he paid that thought no mind. He wanted to use and abuse this moment; to let it revitalise him, and to let him forget about everything that had happened between him and the red dragon, if only for a little while. For the longest time, all he could hear was the rustling of the grass, leaves and the humming of tiny insects. For the longest time, that was all he needed. But all good things must come to an end, and that end was the sound of irregular rustling through the wild grass. Laying still, Caim reached for his sword, only to find it wasn't in its sheath. His sheath wasn't even _on_ him—and this is when the lone prince started to panic. He wouldn't let it show, though. He never showed his fear—not to the Union or Empire, not to his pact-beast, and certainly not to whoever was approaching him. So he lay unmoving, waiting for the band to make their first move. They quickly met him, and Caim's eyes fluttered awake to see those who would dare trample on his peace. He was met with the stares of a party of four; a young girl with bouncy blonde haired tied into messy pigtails, a tall man with brown hair in heavy armour, a young man in a cloak with a book at his waist, and yet another man with a kind smile and short, royal blue hair.

"What should we do?" The blonde girl asked, turning to the blue haired boy. From where Caim laid, he could see a clear mark on his shoulder. Could he have a pact-beast? Maybe he wasn't so far from home after all.

"This is like Robin all over again, huh?" He spoke, tone friendly and calm. Caim guessed he wasn't the first person to wind up in this situation after all.

"His armour is mangled…" The cloak-wearing man spoke, ogling the fallen prince with a suspicious eye. It seemed neither one of the party caught onto the fact that Caim's eyelids were in fact parted, allowing him to see and analyse the situation.

"Yeah, maybe he's dangerous. He's not bleeding, though… maybe we can leave him here?" The young girl asked, steel-blue eyes wrought with worry. Yes, maybe if Caim just laid here, they would leave him be.

"We have to do _something_ ," the cloaked stranger spoke up, peering down at the 'sleeping' prince's unmoving form, "and I'm pretty sure—"

"Ah, you're awake." The marked man interrupted, looking down at Caim with kind eyes. Figuring his act would no longer work, the prince sat up and looked at the four people who had found him. The man with royal blue hair offered him his hand, but the prince got up without even acknowledging the action. "Are you all right?" He queried, swiftly retracting the hand he had held out. Caim shrugged, watching the friendly man carefully.

"… I suppose I am." The brunet prince replied after a pause, looking all around him. "Where am I? Who are you?" His voice was still stiff from not talking for so long. His pact had stolen his voice—and now that it was broken, it had returned. He was unsure about whether or not that fact was good, or bad.

"How about you tell us _your_ name first?" The armoured man spoke, suspicious of Caim. And rightfully so; a stranger in foreign armour, found lying in the middle of the field, was not one to be trusted. The dethroned prince decided to comply with their demands.

"… My name is Caim. I'm the prince of the kingdom of Caerleon, and member of the Union." He replied, voice thick with an accent unknown to the band of four. The armoured man looked at him in distaste, the other three in disbelief. They were all bewildered at the claim, and each member looked to each other in surprise and discomfort.

"Caerleon? _The Union?_ " The tall man repeated, all the more suspicious of the prince, "There is no kingdom of Caerleon here, and there is definitely no _Union_ of any kind. Not involving Caerleon." He continued, voice gruff and full of aggression.

"Hold, Frederick. Maybe he's just confused." The blue haired man spoke, raising a single palm to calm the situation. "But, Caim, you really don't know where you are?" He spoke, bewildered. Caim simply shook his head, fists returning to his breastplate to reassure himself that he was alive. "Do you know _how_ you got here?" The man pressed, brows furrowed in worry, his steel blue eyes baring all his concern to the entire world. Once more, the brunet prince shook his head.

"This has gotta be amnesia, right?" The small blonde piped up, pointer finger aimed at the heavens as if she had just figured out a trifling puzzle. "Just like Robin!"

"Don't you think this is different from me, though?" The cloaked stranger spoke, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. His white hair ruffled in the wind, making the man pull his hood down lower. "I had _no_ memories. I had none, except for Chrom's name."

"Have you all _seriously_ given away our identities to this _brigand_?" Fredrick spoke, refusing to believe what he had just heard. Caim flinched at the word brigand, his inner rage slowly resurfacing. Chrom, the marked man, gave his armoured ally a stern look.

"There's no need for such allegations. For all we know, prince Caim could be the hero of a country overseas." The royal blue gentleman spoke, eyes softening when his made contact with Caim's. The brunet prince clenched his teeth and looked away, arms lowering to his sides and hands clenched into tight fists.

"Pardon me, milord, but I don't believe a word he's saying." Frederick retaliated, lips turned downwards in a frown. The small girl's eyes darted between the two, looking confused.

"Hey, we're talking about Caim like he's not even here!" The pig-tailed girl pointed out, eyeing both bickering men with annoyance. The marked man paused, before breathing a sigh.

"You're right, Lissa. And we can't just leave him here, alone and confused." He admitted, turning once more to the foreigner before him. "We're Shepherds. It's our duty to make sure Caim's safe."

"Such is the reason we should emphasise caution," Frederick warned, his tone less aggressive than before. "'Twould be for the worst to let a wolf into our flock." Caim raised an eyebrow at the mention of 'Shepherds', and only became more confused at the mention of sheep herders. Were these simply metaphors, or were they actually shepherds, monitoring sheep in full armour? The brunet shook his head, trying to comprehend what in the world was happening.

"Alright—let's bring him to town and sort this out there," Chrom reasoned, a silence of agreement settling between the group. Caim could only tilt his head, brows furrowed with both frustration and confusion.

"Could you tell me where we are, first?" The prince queried, hoping to get his question answered instead of ignored. Frederick frowned at the query, and Lissa gave an awkward smile.

"We'll tell you all you need to know once we're in town," the armoured man began, "and I do hope you will tell us the truth in turn." He finished, expression as stern as ever. The small girl had a pitiful look cast across her face, as if she were saying a silent 'I'm sorry about this'. Caim assumed Frederick's behaviour to be no different from usual, and bit back the aggressive words that threatened to spill out. These men were armed, after all—and without his sword or dragon, Caim was nothing.

"Fear not, friend. We mean you no harm," Chrom reassured, arms spread out as a notion of peace, "we ask only that you come with us. Then you will know the answer to your question." Caim nodded, complying with the man's demands and following him as they began to walk; Chrom leading, Frederick guarding the rear with Robin, Caim and Lissa situated in between the two armed men. The walk was silent, yet not particularly uncomfortable. Caim didn't mind the company he was in—it certainly beat being anywhere near Verdelet, and everyone in the party actually seemed sane, which was a rare sight for the prince indeed. They walked along, the peaceful breeze being all that graced their ears. Yet Caim sought to break that silence by asking yet another question;

"What will you do with me?" He queried, face aloof and seemingly uncaring. He had thoughts of what was to come; imprisonment, or mayhap extraneous amounts of manual labour. They called themselves shepherds, yet the fallen prince couldn't help but harbour his suspicions. What if they were imperial soldiers, merely acting oblivious to Caim and the Union to ambush him later? He had an abnormal amount of distrust towards the strangers, but he couldn't help himself. He was betrayed by his pact-beast, after all, and such a twist would rend any man distrustful.

"Fret not." The blue-haired man chuckled, an amused smile gracing his features, "once we establish you are not a threat to Ylisse, you'll be free to go." The cloaked stranger in front of Caim couldn't help but smile, as he had been in a similar situation before.

"… Ylisse? Is that where we are?" Caim prodded, eyes narrowing. He was in deep thought, flipping through his memories trying to find the mentioned 'Ylisse' in them. Yet he could not, and his suspicions grew ever more intense. They had to be pulling his leg, now.

"You speak like you've never heard of the halidom." Frederick butted in, eyes burning into the back of Caim's skull. Caim remained silent, seeing as he had made a fool of himself.

"Don't worry—I had never heard of it before, either." Robin piped up, attempting to reassure the lad. "Then again, I did have amnesia…"

"Exactly! So Caim _does_ have amnesia!" Lissa proclaimed, fist hitting her palm. "It's the only explanation! I told you so."

" _Or_ it's utter Pegasus dung." Frederick retorted, aggression aimed at the foreign prince. It took all Caim had to not let out a chuckle at the strange saying, and instead decided to try his best to ignore the retort. Chrom opened his mouth as if to say something, but Caim spoke up before he had a chance.

"Tell me more about Ylisse. And the… halidom, too, if you will." The brunet requested, albeit nervous about the bluntness present in his voice. Chrom seemed to pay no mind, and was happy to oblige in his request. Robin couldn't help but grin behind his hood, amused by the fact that he was not the only person to wind up in a situation like this.

"This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Emmeryn, our ruler, is known as the exalt." He answered, seriousness thick in his voice. Caim couldn't help but believe his words, lingering doubts pressed to the back of his mind. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves properly…" Chrom began once more, and the brunet couldn't help but agree. He was only basing who they were on assumptions, after all. Caim assumed them to be shepherds, but their armour and weapons pointed to knights more than sheep herders. "My name is Chrom—but I suppose you already guessed that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa." He continued, arm motioning towards the small blonde in front of Frederick.

"I am _not_ delicate!" Lissa let out a huff, lips stuck out in a pout, "Why do you say that to every amnesiac we meet?!" She sighed, deciding to let the matter off for now. "Please, ignore my brother. He can be a bit thick sometimes." The small blonde spoke, a cheeky smile spreading across her cheeks. "But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. It wouldn't be nice to wake up to a brigand instead!"

"You call yourselves shepherds, but… you herd sheep, in full armour?" Caim questioned, hoping for more clarification.

"I was confused about that, too…" The albino stranger spoke, dark cloak fluttering in the wind, "but we're not _actually_ shepherds." He said, an all-knowing smirk stuck to his face.

"Right. Just ask Frederick the Wary here." Chrom suggested with a smile, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." He spoke, bowing. Robin tried his hardest to contain a laugh—he swore Frederick had said the exact same thing to him not so long ago. "I have every wish to trust you, Caim, but my position requires otherwise."

"I understand. I would be the same, had I been Caim the Wary." He joked, catching himself by surprise. He was telling _jokes_ , now? Either the world has gone mad, or the poor prince was high from the sweet air of peace. Lissa let out a laugh in response, and Robin couldn't help but smile at the small jest. Frederick simply chose to ignore the remark, as he appeared not to be in the joking mood. Caim considered his seriousness to be a part of his wary nature, and dismissed his unwillingness to find the humour in his remark as Frederick just being… well, Frederick. Suddenly, Chrom stopped walking, turning to face the group that had been brought to a halt.

"We're almost to town. Once we—" The blue-haired gentleman was brought to a stop by the shouts of his younger sister.

"Chrom, look! The town, again!" She yelled, eyes full of alarm and form radiating distress. She pointed in front of her, all amongst the group following her finger to the wreckage met at the tip.

There was a small country town, beautiful—besides the fact that half the buildings were ablaze. Screams filled the atmosphere, putting the roars of the fire to shame. People were running around in a panic, and every member of the party was wrought with shock.

"Gods dammit, this is the second time since Robin…!" Chrom clenched his teeth, charging into the village, "Come on, Shepherds. Quickly!" He commanded, voice transforming into one belonging to a stern leader. Frederick, Lissa and Robin nodded their heads in unison, rushing into the town with looks of determination. Chrom paused for a moment to look back at Caim, allowing his companions to overtake him and enter the scene. "Caim, stay close. We can't have you getting hurt." He ordered, an unpleasant look across his face. Caim's eyes burned with a want—a want to slaughter whoever did this to the town. The deranged prince brushed past the astounded Chrom, pausing only for a moment to acknowledge the Shepherd's command.

"I can fight. If you lend me your sword, I can help you." Caim spoke, the rage within revitalised. He had forgotten the feeling for a brief moment, and he felt guilty. Guilty that he forgot about everything he had been through, guilty that he forgot his very reason for living; to slaughter all who got in his path. Maybe the enemies were not in his way, per say, but he wished for their death nonetheless. Chrom mistook the disgusting rage in the foreign prince's eyes for determination, and passed the man a spare sword that was previously sheathed at his waist. Caim nodded, grateful, and charged into the burning town.

* * *

"Ba ha ha ha! Get to it, boys!" A gruff man shouted, chest muscles rippling with every mighty laugh, "Grab all the valuables, and light the rest! Rob the town _blind_! Teach these Ylissean scum the meaning of fear!" He commanded, eyes frenzied with greed and a lust for treasure. He was a deplorable man indeed, deep brown hair thinning and sticking out in every which direction. His breath was as rotten as his goals, and his teeth were clinging to his gums by a thread. This was Worrick—a notorious brigand hailing from Plegia, his reason for living to put all Ylisseans through hell and come back with trophies to show for it. Right now, his trophy was a young boy—eight or ten years old. He was a hostage, yet no one would dare step forward to save the child in fear of being cut down themselves. When the boy called for help, however, the Shepherds were there to spring into action.

"Guys, we have to stop them!" Lissa pleaded, taking in the burning town around her. The group of brigands was not huge nor deadly, but they still held enough power in their palms to devastate a small village. Caim gritted his teeth at the sight, bloodlust overcoming him for the first time after waking up in the field.

"Don't worry—this will be the _final_ time these brigands step into this town…" Chrom hissed, blood boiling with anger. How dare the Plegians invade one town after the other, and how dare they _think_ they could get away with it? If there was one thing Chrom hated most in the world, it was unnecessary suffering, and that was exactly what Plegians loved most. Before the royal blue man could order his comrades, Caim charged forward, spare sword at the ready. "Hold, Caim—"

"Chrom, you have no idea how long I've waited for this." Caim spoke, a sick grin spreading across his face. The brunet prince suddenly became a stranger in the eyes of the Shepherds, his unmatched will to massacre a foreign energy to the Ylisseans.

"Caim, it will be easier if you just listen to me. I'm a tactician, and—" Robin began, but was quickly cut off by Caim's increasingly loud voice.

" _Me_ , listen to _you_?" Caim spat, raising his sword, "I've killed hundreds of soldiers! I've killed _dragons_! And you think you can tell me what to do?" He shouted, will to kill tipping over the edge. Robin reached out a gloved hand to stop him, but there was no stopping the unmatched force of the deranged prince.

Caim charged onwards, right into the fray. He was met with two opponents—Plegian brigands, if he had heard correctly—and he did not hesitate to send his blade their way. He ran towards them, feet shuffling along the stone paths, Chrom's borrowed sword light in his strong arms. He slashed forward, leaving a massive dent through the closest enemy's breast plate. Caim was astonished at how little damage the weapon dealt—it was nothing compared to the final weapon he held when slaying his former pact-beast. He clenched his jaw tighter, almost embarrassed to be seen holding such a poorly effective instrument. Chrom had a stronger looking sword fastened to his waist—why was Caim only given this one? Mayhap the tattooed man doubted the brunet prince's power, which only served to fan the flames of rage burning so deeply within Caim. He slashed once more, and again, combos repetitive. His attacks would be useless if it weren't for the strength behind them—Caim was powerful indeed, his temporary sword an inappropriate vessel to contain the pure muscle propelling it forward. Just as the blade felt as if it were about to break, Caim beheaded his first foe whilst the second could only watch on in fear. He smiled a demonic smile as he felt blood spray over his body, relishing in the smell and the sight. The kidnapped boy stood terrified at the opposite end of the plaza, across a stone bridge. All the other criminals looked on in horror; this had not been what they expected. Without warning, Caim charged forward once more, disposing of the second brigand with ease. The paved roads were filled with blood, as Caim hit very notable arteries for the very best of reactions. He let out a chuckle, pleased beyond infinity as his laugh echoed throughout the town. Oh, how he's missed his voice—the voice used to command hundreds, the voice used to challenge Inuart, the voice used to soothe Furiae. Furiae… at the sudden thought, his bloodlust increased twofold; of all people who deserved to die, Furiae was definitely not one of them. His darling little sister, killed herself… because of him. He couldn't help but feel like her death was his fault—after all, he did not reciprocate her romantic feelings, and that loneliness led her to commit suicide. No, he was wrong. It was the empire that took her away. It was the soldiers who kidnapped her, razed towns until they were nothing, kidnapped innocent Union children… Kidnapped children.

The brigands must die.

The Shepherds were busy taking care of the small fry, Lissa throwing a healing spell Caim's way every now and then. He watched as his blood marvellously snaked back into his veins, his wounds closing. This magic was indeed nothing belonging to Midgard, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. Feeling as energised as ever, he ran over the blood slicked bridge, charging towards the man who held a small boy in his hand; Worrick.

"Oh, little lost lamb!" Worrick cooed, foul breath spreading through the thick air, "Prepare to be butchered!"

But Caim wouldn't be butchered.

Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.

With one fell swoop, the rusty sword dug into the brigand leader's shoulder—cutting completely through. Straight through his lungs, his heart, his bones, his muscles. It was over in a split second, a fountain of blood spurting out not a moment later. Unfortunately, the child was also in Caim's line of sight. With warm blood coating his rage imbued optics, he sliced through the boy, leaving a shrill scream to hang in the air from the child. Lissa turned, facing to where she heard the shout of desperation. She covered her mouth in horror, thinking she would scream. No sound came out. The poor blonde was far too scared to even let out the tiniest squeak.

The rest of the Shepherds dealt with their foes before turning to look across the bridge, eyes meeting Caim's broad back, and the two corpses that hit the ground. Bile rose in Robin's throat, miraculously keeping back the foul fluid with a forceful palm. Chrom and Frederick could only stand and stare at the bloodbath that lay before them. Caim, however, felt amazing. He felt _refreshed_. He felt like a man who had spent a week in the desert, finally tasting the sweetness of fresh water. In this moment, bathed in the blood of both his enemies and the innocent, he felt truly alive.

"A monster…" Lissa could only mutter, tears welling in her steel blue eyes.

"Surely this manner of murder goes against the gods themselves…!" Robin panted, brown eyes a mix of disgust, terror and bewilderment. He had never seen a scene such as this. None of them had.

"And for standing idly by, oblivious…" Frederick whispered, the great knight exhibiting an uncharacteristic tremble in his voice, "… have the doors to heaven closed for us, too?"

And all Chrom could do was stare.

What beast had he just rescued? What _monster_ had he saved? He swallowed hard, knowing full well this was only the beginning of Caim's unrelenting murder.


	2. Bear With Me

No one dies in this chapter so it's kind of a filler, so sorry about that (-: Emmeryn makes an appearance next chapter, so really this is more of a filler! A 20 page filler but... still a filler... (also Caim is kind of ooc but he'll be back to normal once he sees blood again)

* * *

Caim wondered why the Plegian bandits were even considered a threat. He had cut them down so easily, even with a sword as blunt as a butter knife. But blinded by his bloodlust, he forgot about the existence of the child the Shepherds were trying to save. He mistook the boy to be the villain's fat gut, or some kind of extra armour piece, not the hostage Worrick had taken. Yet he stood still, looking down at the two bodies piled on each other. Blood gushed onto the pavement with a steady flow, sneaking through the gaps and pooling at Caim's feet. He looked down at his gloves, red from the blood that had dripped down his sword. His eyes were clouded by the thick liquid the Plegian from before sprayed all over him when the prince beheaded him, and even as he blinked the blur wouldn't leave.

The Shepherds crossed the bridge towards Caim, except for Lissa. She was beside herself, unmoving, frozen in disbelief whilst a million thoughts played themselves over and over again in her mind. She witnessed a killing unlike the noble culling the Shepherds engaged in—she watched a child die. She watched an Ylissean die. And what did she do? She _helped_ that murderer, healed him on the battlefield. She had too much faith. Too much faith in the stranger they found in the plains.

"It's over." Chrom finally breathed out, standing behind Caim. The foreign prince brought a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes, and looked up towards the sky. Chrom misunderstood what he was doing—he had assumed Caim to be holding back tears, not wiping away the blood coating his face. Both Robin and Frederick shared a glance, brows furrowed in concern. They had also assumed the same as Chrom—assumed that Caim had realised what he had done, that it was all an accident, and that he felt an overwhelming sadness at his own actions. They were wrong. Caim didn't care, in fact, he couldn't care less. The hostage was in the way. Neither Shepherd decided to bring it up.

"'Twas lucky we were so close to town." Frederick spoke up, watching as the blaze began to calm. Robin nodded.

"Well, you're definitely not a helpless victim. Or Plegian brigand." The albino tactician spoke up, voice betraying the uncomfortableness he felt inside.

"Indeed. Perhaps you'd be able to tell us where you learnt to fight like that?" Frederick questioned, suspicious of the near-stranger that had just taken out half the bandits. Caim's head lowered, taking one final wipe at his eyes before turning around. His face was slightly red, but whether it was because of his own flushed cheeks from 'crying' or the blood of his enemies, they couldn't tell.

"My father, the King of Caerleon." Caim replied, voice shaky at the thought of his father. No one picked up on it besides Chrom. Perhaps they had a similar, war hungry father? "Most people in Midgard swing their sword the same as me."

"You still speak of Midgard and Caerleon…" Frederick muttered, crossing his arms.

"It doesn't matter where you came from," Chrom spoke up, patting Caim on the shoulder, "You put your life on the line to save this town. My heart says that's good enough." Caim was bewildered by the friendliness of the marked prince. Did he not just see Caim kill an Ylissean child? Maybe he did take down most of the brigands and save the town, but he also disobeyed Robin's orders, and he was directly responsible for a civilian casualty. The bloodied brunet didn't deserve this kindness. What could he do to return it? He decided the only friendly thing he could do was smile, but he hadn't smiled in a long time. He wondered if he was even capable. Yet he forced the kindest smile he could muster, and Chrom returned it with a nod of his head. Robin and Frederick shared a worried glance, never even thinking the foreign prince to be the kind of person to smile. Ever.

"You have my thanks—" Caim began, before a familiar voice erupted from behind Robin and Frederick.

"Oh! I didn't think you were the kind of person to smile like that, Caim!" The feminine voice cheered, and the albino tactician in front of her stood to the side for all to see. It was the princess of Ylisse, completely unbothered by the bloody corpses littered throughout the plaza. Frederick, her guardian, quickly blocked the bodies of the child and Worrick from her line of sight. Chrom turned his attention from Caim to his little sister, and ran to her side.

"Lissa, are you ok?" The older brother spoke, gripping her shoulders with care. Lissa tilted her head, pigtails bobbing as she did so.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked, raising a questioning brow. "I'm not as delicate as you think! And we saved the town, right? And the kid." At Lissa's last words, the whole group cringed. The girl's steel blue eyes scanned the small crowd, before realisation dawned on her. "We… didn't?"

"There was nothing we could do." Robin spoke, a painful grimace etched onto his face, "The brigands got to him before we could." Caim looked at the cloaked tactician, unable to understand why he refused to tell Lissa the truth. Chrom looked guilty, and Frederick looked ready to spill the beans. When Robin's brown eyes met Caim's own, he then began to understand. He didn't want Lissa to distrust their new companion. Robin wanted to give him a chance.

"I was the reason for his death, Lissa." Caim spoke up, caring not for the tactician's good intentions. "Not the bandits. It was me." The young girl looked over her brother's shoulder to meet Caim's gaze. There was no remorse, there was no care. But she did pick up on his seriousness, and that's what she decided to focus on.

"Caim…" She spoke barely above a whisper, "don't blame yourself. As Robin said, there was nothing you could do." Frederick shifted in his heavy armour uncomfortably, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"I shall inform the parents of what has transpired. With your permission, milord." Frederick spoke, addressing Chrom. The Ylissean prince nodded his head, and the knight moved off. A forgotten sheet of tarp lay next to a burnt down stall, which he used to cover the child's body to hide it from prying eyes. He then walked off towards the housing district, leaving Caim, Chrom, Lissa and Robin to themselves.

"Prince Caim," Chrom spoke up, turning to the foreigner. The brunet raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. "You exhibit amazing strength; strength that would be valuable to the Shepherds. It would be insane of me not to offer you a position in our ranks." The brunet prince brought a hand to his chin and looked down in thought, and the marked prince saw this as an opportunity to continue. "Of course, you are a prince of a country of your own. I'm not asking you to abandon your people. You may decline if you so wish—"

"My people have fallen. By the hands of the Empire, and the dragons." Caim interrupted, brows creased. It was true. As far as he knew, he had lost everything—Caerleon, the Union, his allies, Inuart, Furiae, the red dragon. He needed to return to Midgard to kill those god awful dragons, but how could he without money for transportation and weapons? Not to mention, a new world was right in front of him. He could train and refine his techniques to prepare himself for the hordes of dragons inhabiting Midgard. The fallen prince could put an end to it all, bathe in dragon blood, and revive the Union. Not that the Union was really important to him—after all, it couldn't even save Furiae's life or halt Inuart's conversion. But he would need people to take back his country. Maybe the Ylisseans were just the people he needed to get it started?

"I'm sorry…" Chrom apologised, remorse dripping from his voice. Caim waved his hand, dismissing his pity.

"There is no need to apologise, Chrom. My homeland is gone. One day, I wish to return; but for now, I would assist you in all that I can." Caim spoke, holding his hand out for a handshake. "All I ask is for you to allow me a position in the battlefield as often as possible." Chrom blinked, taken aback by the request.

"I can already tell you are a veteran when it comes to the blade," The steel blue eyed prince said, "and I'm sure we will be grateful to have someone as skilled as you on our side. Consider yourself a permanent member, Shepherd." He agreed, shaking Caim's gloved hand with his own. Robin looked uneasy at the union, but Lissa looked as happy as could be.

"Great. The more the merrier!" She cheered, before returning to her neutral expression. "Oh, yeah, Chrom. I don't really remember much about what happened, but what really stood out to me the most about the brigands were their accents. I'm pretty sure they were Plegian." Chrom nodded his head, gritting his teeth in frustration. Caim was confused by their accents—they were unlike anything he had ever heard before. Now he could tell the difference between the Ylissean people and the Plegians just by their voices.

"Would you care to fill me in on what, exactly, a Plegian is?" Caim butted in, earning the attention of the two siblings. "You've both mentioned them before, but I'm not quite sure I understand."

"I was also unfamiliar with Plegia." Robin spoke up, grabbing Caim's own attention, "The Plegians hail from a country to the west of Ylisse, and occasionally send bands of criminals past the border in hopes of starting a war."

"And it's the poor townsfolk who suffer, like the people here! They're totally innocent, and totally defenceless..." Lissa spoke up, a mixture of annoyance and sadness evident in her voice.

"Don't let your anger sweep you away, Lissa. They've got nothing to worry about. They have us to protect them—us Shepherds." Robin reassured, giving Lissa a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I know… it's just taking me awhile to get used to this." She sighed, looking dejected. Suddenly, the rushing of feet erupted from behind the small band, and each member turned around to meet the eyes of one of the villagers. An elderly man with eyes shining brightly, in complete awe of the heroes that had saved the town.

"Milord, milady! Thank you so much for saving the town again. This time, you _must_ stay the night. We're nowhere near as extravagant as the capital city, but we would love to toast your bravery with a feast." He cheered, hands clasped together in hopeful prayer. Chrom smiled, but shook his head in response.

"I apologise, but we must be on our way. We're very thankful for the offer." He replied with a charming smile, "Ylisstol waits for us."

"Alright! No white meat for me, medium well, and definitely no salt in the soup. Oh, also—" Lissa began, before fully processing her brother's response, "Wait, what?! Chrom, really? It's almost night-time! It couldn't hurt to stay the night, could it?"

"We can camp like we used to," Robin cut in, a casual smirk stuck to his face, "And live off the land. Remember that, Lissa?" The princess stuck out her tongue and glared at the cloaked man.

"All I remember are the _bugs_. I'm pretty sure I ate one." She responded, folding her arms over her chest. "And hey! Since when did you become Frederick?"

"You called, milady?" A deep voice spoke from the right of Lissa, startling both Robin and the princess. Lissa jumped back, visibly startled and nearly collided with Caim.

"W-where did you come from?" She involuntarily shouted, still surprised from the sudden appearance of the great knight.

"I did not mean to scare you, milady." Frederick replied with an ever-so-serious face. "Anyway, we must be going. I have informed the child's guardians, and they will be coming shortly. I do not think it wise to stay and console them—Ylisstol is yet waiting for us."

"Should we not offer some sort of condolences?" Chrom spoke up, steel blue eyes overcast with the shadow of regret. Frederick shook his head.

"You know better than the rest of us that we must leave. Besides, I took it upon myself to deliver our condolences. Milord, I urge that we leave shortly."

"He's right. We really shouldn't trouble the townsfolk. And we've got to go see Emmeryn, right?" Robin spoke up, waiting for the two royals to make a move. Chrom whispered a barely audible 'gods dammit' under his breath, before looking up at the Shepherds before him.

"Right… We best be off." The royal blue-haired prince finally agreed, turning to Caim. "Ylisstol isn't too far from here. Are you ready to go, prince Caim?" The brunet prince nodded his head in response.

"Just call me Caim. It's easier." Caim spoke casually, taking a step forward from the group, "I'm ready." Once more, Frederick and Robin shared a worried look with each other. Caim seemed to think he could take the lead in this world, despite having no power. Without his pact-beast, he was just a fallen prince with a rusty sword. Of course, he was once well known for being a one-man army, but that was in a familiar land. Caim taking that first step forward made the Shepherds begin to doubt his intentions, yet they became much more relaxed once Chrom began walking beside him. Caim was not the only prince who wanted to lead, they supposed.

* * *

The sun began to set in the Ylissean sky, painting the cloudy ceiling a gorgeous mix between orange and lilac. That's when Caim began to realise just how different this country was from his own. The setting sun truly did differ depending on where you were in the world—but just where was Ylisse on the world map? As a prince, it was Caim's duty to be knowledgeable in all things, including geography, so he was astounded by the fact that he had landed himself in a place that was completely foreign. Ylisse, the halidom, Emmeryn… they were all things he had never even heard of before. Normally he knew the names of important royals, so why wouldn't he know the name of the ruler of a country so huge? And a country so beautiful, too. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had never heard of Plegia either. Basing its location on what Robin had told the prince before, it should be located in the west. As far as Caim knew, though, that's where Midgard was. It was the westernmost country on the map, so maybe Ylisse was too far East for his tutors to care about teaching him? They most certainly didn't look eastern, though, and neither did the Plegian brigands. The dethroned prince furrowed his brows in thought, wondering just how he'd make his way back to Midgard if he had no idea where he was in the first place.

"Thinking about something, Caim?" Robin piped up from behind, dragging the brunet from his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Frederick before he had the chance.

"Probably thinking up some fairy tale lore for his so-called 'kingdom'." The great night spat, eyes squinted in suspicion. Caim couldn't care less about what Frederick thought he was thinking about, and sent a deathly aloof stare his way in retaliation.

"Where's your trust at, Frederick?" Lissa whined, kicking her feet in the dirt as she walked. "Frederick the waryyyy…"

"Can you blame me? He still refuses to tell us any truths. Much like the two who claimed to be from Nohr…" Frederick continued, scepticism evident in his tone. Robin tilted his head, obviously confused.

"'Two who claimed to be from Nohr'? You never told me about that." The cloaked albino said, holding his chin in his hand. Lissa's eyes suddenly widened, as if she had just remembered something important.

"Right! They were chasing after some invisible warthogs. We saw you passed out on the ground as soon as they left, Robin." The young princess chimed, filling the confused tome-wielder in. Caim's eyebrows were raised in surprise—perhaps he was not the only person to wind up in Ylisse from an unknown land? "Actually, Robin, aren't you kind of like them? And like Caim, too?"

"What do you mean?" The brown-eyed man asked, visibly confused. He honestly could not find the relevance between himself, the two strangers and Caim.

"You know, you came to Ylisse, said you weren't from here… Maybe you're from the mythical Nohr, too? Or Midgard! Midgard sounds pretty mythical." Lissa continued, clasping her hands together in excitement. She stopped soon after, though, and turned to Caim with an awkward look on her face. "Uhh, I'm not saying that Midgard is mythical or anything, though. It just sounds pretty cool."

"I'm certain it's mythical." Frederick added, looking into the distance. "Either way, milord, milady; I think it is best we start setting up camp. The sunlight is making itself scarce." It seemed the siblings' retainer sought to change the subject before Caim could defend himself, but the brunet prince couldn't care less about Frederick's feelings towards his homeland. He didn't want to waste his breath on someone who was only a temporary ally. Maybe the past him would have cared, but the only times he thought of his country was when and how he would take it back from the dragons. If he was lucky, the Cult of the Watchers would have all been wiped out by now. If he was unlucky, the Union would be wiped out as well.

"Good idea. I'll go look for some firewood." Chrom spoke before turning to Caim, a serious expression garnishing his princely features, "Would you care to accompany me, Caim?" The warrior-prince blinked, not expecting to be invited along for the gathering. Nevertheless, he nodded his head in agreement.

"Of course." The brunet man replied, walking side-by-side with Chrom into the wilderness. Conversation could be heard behind the two princes between the other three Shepherds, but Caim deemed their conversation irrelevant and decided to focus on the task at hand.

Both warriors trudged through the ever thick forest, both looking for the appropriate fuel for their campfire. Although Chrom was mostly absorbed in his scavenging, the other prince couldn't help but sneak glances in his direction in suspicion. It wasn't his fault he was suspicious of the marked man's intentions—he was all too used to the sickening cruelty and harshness of the Empire, and had thus made him wary of even the kindest of strangers. Right now, as he was, Caim was not confident he could win in a fight against Chrom. Of course, the man had never lost a battle, but with a blade like a butter-knife, no pact-beast and only his brawn and brain, Caim wondered if he would even be capable of standing up to the royal blue-haired man beside him. Chrom's weapon was certainly more effective than the one at Caim's waist—a single glance at the magnificent blade was enough for him to come to that conclusion.

"Thinking again?" Chrom spoke up, breaking the peaceful forest ambience. Caim simply hummed before picking up a large fallen branch.

"I suppose I am." The dark-eyed prince vaguely responded, keeping his eyes on the next bundle of twigs in his line of sight. "Why do you ask?" He inquired, raising his head to look in the direction of the Ylissean prince. Chrom sighed, carefully placing down the bunch of branches he had picked up earlier.

"Truth be told; I didn't ask you out here to simply scavenge for wood." Chrom confessed, but it wasn't an unexpected confession. The newly recruited Shepherd let out a small 'oh', waiting for his newfound ally to continue. "I wanted to ask you about your kingdom, and the dragons you mentioned before. That is, if it's ok with you. I don't mean to cross any boundaries."

"I do not mind answering questions about my homeland. The dragons, though…" The foreigner began, roughly setting down his pile of significantly larger branches, "I don't know how much I can tell you. Not much is known of the dragons, and I was barely able to analyse them before I wound up… well, here."

"Would you care to tell me what happened to Midgard? Is there anyway the halidom can assist you and your people?" Chrom pried, taking a seat on a fallen log. Caim sat next to him, careful to avoid the rotting pieces of wood.

"It is a rather long story. I suppose I can begin with the ending, but…" The warrior began, shifting positions to get comfortable, "why are you interested? Why do you think my homeland is real? No one else seems to even _want_ to believe me."

"I trust your words, Caim. I'm also curious about your kingdom. I'm willing to answer any questions you may have regarding Ylisse as well, if you have any."

"An exchange of information?" Caim scoffed, looking at the soil in front of him.

"You need not tell me anything if you don't want to. No matter what you choose to do, I would still not mind filling you in on current events and Ylissean history." Chrom reasoned, looking straight at the mysterious prince. Caim contemplated his options for a few seconds, before lifting his head to meet the branded man's gaze.

"Do you know of the Seeds of Resurrection?" Caim queried, earning a shake of Chrom's head. "To sum it up, they're 'seeds' with the power to bring anyone back from the dead. If a person is placed within the seed, they are revived. According to Verdelet, though," Chrom showed visible confusion at the mention of Verdelet, yet Caim continued, "they were not the Seeds of Resurrection. Rather, they were the Seeds of Destruction; their purpose was to bring the apocalypse. With the help of my pact-beast, I was able to destroy the seeds before any unfixable harm befell the world. Although, before I could destroy the last one, she turned on me." Caim tried his hardest to hide his grimace at the thought of his betrayal, and Chrom remained silent in respect. "I had no choice but to slay her. Then, I destroyed that final, awful seed. What came next, though, was not anything I had been expecting.

"My pact-beast was a dragon, see. The most powerful dragon of them all. Dragons themselves have the power to rival even the Watchers, so my red dragon was, arguably, the strongest beast alive. But dragonkind did not falter with her death. No—right before our final battle, she spoke of the dragons turning on humanity, and after I killed her, they plagued the sky. I know not of what fate the Empire, the Union or the Watchers met. I do not even remember how I got here, and I know not of how much time has passed. But I need to get back. I need to kill the dragons. The dragons that killed…" Caim's words began to decrease in volume, and he had to stop himself from spilling out his entire heart. Recalling the events pained his corrupted soul, especially when he had brought up the red dragon. "And my sister. I need to make sure the Empire is completely wiped out after what they did to her."

"You have a sister?" Chrom queried, hoping to bring light to a less crippling topic.

"Yes. Her name was Furiae, and she was my younger sister. She was the goddess, protector of the seal." Caim knew these words meant nothing to the young prince next to him, yet Chrom still seemed intrigued.

"Goddess? Seal?" He questioned with a quirked brow, curiosity sparkling in his grey-blue eyes. Caim simply scoffed and shook his head.

"The Goddess carried the burden of the Goddess Seal. Once that seal, along with the other three, is broken… the Seeds of Resurrection rise, and the end of the world begins. The Goddess Seal was broken. Furiae… she…" Caim held himself back once more, too prideful to let his sorrows out. He had just met Chrom—why was he telling him something that pained him so much? Chrom was a prince, not a goddamn counsellor. Why was he even letting all this get to him? He loved his sister, and he missed her dearly, but he barely let it show around his former allies. Maybe it was the sweet air of peace that the halidom naturally radiated, and it was all getting to his head. Yes, that had to be it. The lack of bloodshed was making Caim vulnerable. Chrom reached out a hand to give the fallen prince a comforting pat on the shoulder, making the brunet lift his head in surprise. The blue-haired prince wore a sincere expression—it wasn't pity, per se, but maybe something similar.

"I'm… You have my condolences, Caim. I can't even begin to imagine what all of that must have been like for you. We have dragons and shifters in this country, too, but I believe our dragons to be of a different kind." The blood thirsty prince's expression immediately darkened, a feeling unfamiliar to the Ylissean casting a sinister shadow over Caim's dark irises. Chrom withdrew his hand, bringing it to rest on his own knee.

"You have dragons? And what do you mean by 'shifters'?" Caim queried, menacing undertones poking out from his harmless questions.

"Here, dragons are considered as divinity. Ylisse is devoted to Naga, and her blood runs through the veins of all Ylissean royalty, including myself; but She has an enemy. The Fell Dragon, Grima. He has followers of his own, the Grimleal, though they are more prone to violence and are determined to bring him back to our world. As for shifters, that is not their official name. I simply called them that in hopes that it would ring a bell for you, but I shall explain." Caim spoke, looking up to the treetops, "They're called Manaketes. With a special stone, they have the ability to transform to and from their draconic forms at will. They keep to themselves, and don't normally trouble themselves over our kind." Caim listened intently, absorbing all the information he could. He cared not for Naga's divinity, nor for the passive nature of the Manaketes. No dragon could be trusted, nor could they be left alive. Caim knew in his heart that if the dragons were not annihilated, Ylisse would be the next country to be destroyed. Whether what he knew was right or not, however, was debatable.

"Why is Grima called the Fell Dragon?" Caim pressed, bloodlust throbbing in his throat. Chrom saw no harm in answering him.

"Grima once tried to destroy Ylisse, and the world. The Grimleal have another name for him—the god of destruction. But do not be mistaken; Grima is no god. He is simply the enemy of the world." Chrom summarised, brows furrowed in annoyance. "Maybe he is responsible for what happened to your homeland?"

"Maybe he is. Either way, he must not live, _or_ be revived by the Grimleal." Caim hissed, hoping the fell dragon would just stay fallen.

"You needn't worry. The Grimleal haven't proven themselves a threat for quite some time. As long as they don't try and pull anything, Grima will be staying where he belongs." Chrom sighed before standing up, patting down his pants to rid himself of any splinters of wood. "You know what, Caim? I think you're a good person. I had to admit, what you pulled back in town did give me my doubts, but it looks like you care for justice as much as the rest of us." He spoke, looking back down at the brunet still seated on the log. Little did he know that Caim was not one for justice—only for death, for quenching his undying rage. If anything, killing that child felt more good than bad. The brutal prince wasn't about to bring that up, though. He needed Chrom's trust if he hoped for allies to take back Midgard.

"Right." Caim simply replied, standing up from the log and grabbing his bundle of massive branches, "By the way, do you think this will be enough wood to last the night?" He asked, hoping for the topic to be changed to anything than his 'thirst for justice'. Chrom looked down at his ordinary pile of wood, then at Caim's enormous stack.

"Yes, this should be plenty. Are you alright carrying all that, though? I'd be happy to relieve the burden." Chrom offered, impressed at the weight his new ally managed to lift. He wasn't even so much as sweating.

"No, I'm alright. I've held a heavier sword than both our stacks combined." Caim answered, stepping over stones and shrubs on the way back to the group of Shepherds they had left behind. Chrom simply chuckled before following suit, catching up and walking by his side. The Ylissean prince felt he had gotten to know Caim a little more, although the foreign prince still remained as mysterious as ever. Caim, on the other hand, cared not for getting to know his new 'leader'. He only cared about the new dragons that inhabited the country, waiting for slaughter by his hand.

* * *

By the time both princes arrived back at camp, several tents had already been set up. There lay a stone circle in the middle of the site, begging to be filled by dried grass and wood. Lissa was the first to notice their arrival, and quickly got up to greet the two of them.

"Chrom, Caim! You're back! Took you long enough." She teased, a cheeky smile adorning her doll-like face. Her eyes glanced between Chrom and Caim's respective piles of firewood, steel blue optics growing wide at the size of Caim's. "I see you've brought plenty of wood, though. Especially you, Caim! It's like you've got a whole disassembled tree in your arms. Isn't that heavy?"

"Not at all. Would you like to have a try at holding a piece?" Caim offered, placing his pile on the ground. He grabbed a branch the length and thickness of a child, holding it in front of Lissa.

"Really? Ok." She responded, placing her small hands underneath the massive branch. "Hey, this isn't so bad. I could lift twenty of these!"

"I haven't let go yet." Caim spoke, his natural aloofness never leaving his voice, "Are you ready for me to drop it?"

"Yup." Lissa responded, and instantly regretted it. As soon as it was out of Caim's gloved grip, Lissa found herself falling forward, letting go of the wood just before she toppled over completely. "Oh my gods, Caim! What in the world was that?! How can you even _hold_ something that heavy? How can you hold _lots_ of things that heavy at once?!" Caim shrugged, slightly amused at the little princess' reaction.

"It is really no problem for me. Then again, I've had a lot of training."

"Yeah, and built a _lot_ of muscle. Way too much muscle! You're stronger than you look, Caim." Lissa praised, rubbing at her delicate wrists.

"Milord, you are back. I trust everything went smoothly? You were met with no trouble?" A concerned Frederick butted in, showing up from seemingly nowhere. Chrom opened his mouth to speak, but his younger sister cut in before he had the chance.

"Nevermind that, Frederick! Look at what Caim can carry. Isn't that amazing?" Lissa shouted enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with admiration towards the warrior prince. Frederick turned his nose up at the child-sized piece of wood, before looking towards Caim with an unimpressed stare.

"There is nothing amazing about collecting firewood." He retorted, tone as sour as the look on his face.

"I bet you're just saying that because you can't lift it up." Lissa spat, lips poking out in a small pout. Frederick's gaze turned to the princess, expression as stern as ever.

"Surely you jest, milady. I am one of the strongest of the royal guard, and the strongest of all the Shepherds."

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you prove it, then?" Lissa prompted, brows furrowed with determination.

"I fail to see the point in wasting my strength." Frederick simply stated, turning towards the absurdly large piece of wood. "This is far too large for the fire pit, anyway. Why did you bring this back?" Caim simply shrugged, eyes looking towards the darkening sky. Robin, who had been eavesdropping from afar, approached the group and stood next to the pile of wood Caim had dropped onto the ground.

"Why don't we make a bonfire? That way we won't have to chop up the wood they brought, and it'll be bigger and better than a regular fire pit." Robin suggested, and Lissa immediately clapped her hands.

"That's why Robin's our tactician! You've always got the best ideas." She cheered, before looking up to the sky. The sky was less a lilac and more an intense plum, signalling that the day was coming to an end. "Ah, quick! Let's pile everything up." With those words, everyone began picking at Caim and Chrom's respective piles of wood, Robin and Lissa handling the lighter branches whilst the rest of the Shepherds carried the heavier logs.

Frederick managed to hold even more than Caim and Chrom, pieces of wood slung over his shoulder and tucked under his arm. The two princes held roughly the same weight in their arms, albeit Chrom handled them with slightly more difficulty. Not that Caim was about to pay him out for it—he would be worn out, too, if it weren't for the repetitive training he had put himself through. Swinging his sword so many times, all in the same way, built up a special kind of resilience and strength in his arms. Now, he could endure the massive weight he had to bear with ease, no matter how many times or how long it took him to do it. Thanks to his tedious techniques and training, though, he was quickly earning the admiration of the two less-physically capable Shepherds, Lissa and Robin. In fact, even Frederick was visibly impressed at the young prince's amazing strength. Yet Caim was still unsatisfied, and maybe even a little disappointed.

If he still had his pact with the red dragon, he would undoubtedly be able to lift two times the amount he had in his arms right now. In his current state, he would never be able to take on all of Midgard's dragons at once. A scowl crossed his features as he threw multiple logs onto the widespread pile in the middle of camp, and he walked off to go get more. Still, the red dragon was always on his mind. He had to admit, she had definitely changed him. Contrary to everything else he had ever killed, he felt so many things when she had died by his hand. No, he felt so many things before that. During battle, when he was with her, he felt something more than unquenchable rage. Even though he barely harboured a soul, he had begun to feel strange towards the giant dragon. Now that she had been killed, all he felt was loss. He felt like a part of him was missing; more than just his magic and strength. What could it be?

"Alright! Dibs lighting the fire." Lissa cheered as she threw dried grass all over the pile of wood, grabbing two sticks to rub together. Before anyone had noticed, especially the princess, the massive pile was already caught alight. All eyes were immediately on Frederick, who held an empty matchbox in hand. Lissa gasped, shock and frustration sprawled all over her fragile features. "Frederick!"

"I apologise, milady. I did not want you to get hurt." He reasoned, expression stern in front of the ever growing flame.

"I was just handling bundles of splinters, for gods' sake! Not to mention, I was going to be near the fire anyway." She argued, shoulders raised in annoyance.

"I kept an eye on the branches you chose and made sure you would only pick up the safest sticks," Frederick revealed, earning a curious stare from everyone. Lissa opened her mouth to say something, before being interrupted by the great knight, "Do not question a retainer's devotion and ways."

"Well, I suppose that's why I ended up with so many splinters in my clothes…" Robin sighed, looking down at his gloved hands. Caim did the same, only to notice shards of wood sticking out from his palms. If his gloves were not so thick, the mass of the wood wouldn't have been the only problem when it came to carrying it.

"Either way, milord, milady," Frederick spoke once more, "I managed to hunt a bear whilst you were both occupied."

"Oh, so _that's_ what that smell is…" Robin whispered, nudging Lissa in the side. She groaned and rolled her eyes, not at all excited for the dinner that awaited the group.

"Will we ever eat normal food? Why did you have to go and hunt a bear?" She whined, kicking her shoe in the dirt. "Anyway, I have a better alternative! The magic of water and random herbs I found in the forest." The princess spoke, a proud grin on her face. She ducked into her tent for a second, only to come out with a bunch of unfamiliar herbs and mushrooms in her tiny hands. Her guardian eyed the plants suspiciously, before shaking his head.

"That will not do, milady. I do not know enough about the local flora to determine whether or not those herbs are safe for consumption." The brunet great knight argued, blue armour sparkling in the light of the bonfire, "The bear I hunted, however, is perfectly safe. We can afford to miss out on vegetables for one night, so I insist we eat what I have found instead."

"Why not let our new recruit choose what we eat?" Chrom proposed, turning all attention on Caim. He looked somewhat menacing in the warm glow of the fire, as did his damaged attire. Once the brunet realised he was the object of everyone's attention, he stopped absently looking at the fire and looked at the group before him.

"Personally, I prefer meat," He responded, voice uncaring, "and I do not remember the last time I've eaten something that's not monster meat. Whatever this 'bear' is, I look forward to trying it."

"They probably don't have these veggies in Midgard either, though. Give 'em a shot! Please, I don't want to eat bear meat again…" Lissa complained, lips poking out in a tiny pout. Chrom laughed, a fond smile spread across his princely features.

"The guest of honour has spoken. Bear meat it is." The steel blue-eyed prince declared, looking back at Frederick in way of telling him to prepare the food. Lissa groaned, and Robin gave her a gentle pat on the back to comfort the crestfallen princess.

"It's time for some serious character building, princess." Robin spoke, no teasing evident in his friendly tone of voice.

"Come on, I built up character by _gathering_ these herbs! Now it's all gone to waste…" She complained, brows scrunched in bitter frustration. Robin and Chrom chuckled in their own amusement, and Frederick wandered to the back of his tent to procure the dead bear. Caim followed the great knight, wanting to provide some assistance. The brunet retainer turned his head and raised a single brow, wondering why the fallen prince was following him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He queried, eyes full of speculation.

"I would like to lend my assistance." Caim confessed, looking over Frederick's shoulder at the massive bag that lay beyond the knight.

"I do not need your help. I have already skinned and prepped the beast, and I need no assistance with cooking it either." Frederick answered, resuming his walk to the bag that held the skinned bear.

"I can carry it. It's the least I could do." The prince offered, extending his hand out towards the dark haired knight. Frederick only scowled in response before hoisting the massive sack up and over his shoulder, no sign of strain evident on his face.

"No." He curtly responded, fierce glare boring into Caim's steady stare. "Milord and lady may trust you, but I do not. I know you're up to something."

"I am not hostile, Frederick. Is it so impossible for me to help around camp?" Caim queried, his voice eerily calm and borderline apathetic.

"Believe it or not, you don't seem like the kind of person to willingly help others. Besides, why would I wish to associate with a liar such as yourself?" Frederick retorted, stern and stubborn. Caim visibly flinched at the word 'liar', something he didn't mean to show. The prince's expression only darkened as he noticed Frederick pick up on his uncomfortableness. "I do not want you spending time around the prince and princess. I shan't restrict their freedom, but the moment you act with suspicious intent, I _will_ kill you." His words almost came out as a growl, threatening and honest. Caim shrugged his shoulders, watching as Frederick's heavily armoured body strode past him, leaving Caim alone in the darkness of the night.

The brunet watched from a distance as Frederick put the pieces of meat on long sticks, handing the skewers to the other Shepherds. They sat in front of the bonfire, each cooking their own respective skewers of meat, laughing and talking with each other without a care in the world. It was the first time Caim had seen such a peaceful scene in a fair while, and his chest began to tighten. There was something there other than rage, and it was want. He wanted the connection that the Shepherds had with one another—something he had never had, even with his old allies, even with Furiae. It was true friendship, true peace, something that disappeared when Caerleon was attacked by the black dragon. Caim couldn't help but feel that he was out of place with the group, that he was far too gone to even think of becoming 'friends' with them. Yet he yearned for it. With the red dragon gone, with his family gone, with his allies, his country, his home, _everything_ gone, he felt truly alone.

"Hey, where did Caim go?" Robin queried, his name pulling at the prince's attention.

"He shouldn't be but a moment." Frederick reassured, carefully spinning the skewer to evenly cook his bear meat.

"Did you say something to him, Frederick?" Chrom asked, voice and expression serious.

"Of course not, milord." The great knight responded, eyes on the blazing fire before him, "I simply told him I did not need his assistance. Mayhap he went for a walk?"

"The forest isn't safe at night. Especially for a foreigner." Chrom spoke, digging his stick into the ground. "I'm going to look for him. I shan't be long—"

"I'm back." Caim simply spoke, walking towards the group to settle in front of the bonfire. Chrom looked up at him with surprise and then relief, happy that his fellow Shepherd hadn't come across any danger. Caim hated to admit it, but it tore him up inside to see the beautiful moment the group had together be ruined because of him.

"Where did you go?" Lissa asked, resting her cheek on her palm. Caim shrugged and took a seat next to her, letting the heat of the fire attack his face.

"He probably needed to go to the bathroom. Don't make him say it, Lissa." Robin joked, twirling his still cooking food with his right hand. Lissa raised her brows, surprised that the tactician would even suggest that.

"Well, I mean, I guess it makes sense. When you have to go, you have to go. Right?" Lissa spoke, prompting Caim in hopes he would fess up to what he was doing alone in the dark. Caim just crossed his legs and looked into the fire, unblinking.

"Sure." He answered, giving nothing away. Lissa groaned in frustration, cheeks puffed out in annoyance.

"Fine. Don't tell me, then." She huffed, swinging her cooking skewer about.

"Caim, why don't you tell us something about yourself?" Robin proposed out of the blue, earning a surprised look from the prince.

"Why?" The prince queried, eyes darting from the fire to Robin.

"You're a mystery, and one I'd like to know more about." The albino answered, taking his skewer away from the fire and inspecting it. "We all want to know more about the prince of Caerleon, and his kingdom." He continued, holding his meat above the flame once more. Lissa's eyes lit up and she leaned forward, eyes glittering with curiosity.

"Oh, yes! Tell us all about you." She encouraged, yearning for information about the foreign prince and his foreign land.

"Ok. What would you like to know?" He humoured, resting his head in the palm of his hand. Robin furrowed his brows in thought, before coming up with an idea.

"Why not tell us your age first?" The tactician suggested, a casual smile playing on his lips.

"Twenty-four." He responded, face utterly deadpanned. Lissa and Robin looked at each other, before diverting their attention back to Caim.

"Wow… I think you're the oldest here. Other than Frederick." Lissa spoke, surprised. "You're definitely a few years older than me, anyway…"

"How old are you, by the way?" Robin asked Lissa, tilting his head.

"It's a secret." She teased, a cheeky grin playing across her lips. "Anyway! Uh… do you have any family?" Lissa pried, expression neutral. Caim's face shifted, eyebrows creasing and lips slightly upturned.

"I had a family. A mother, a father, a little sister." He answered bluntly, eyes turning back towards the fire.

"Oh, you have a little sister? What's she like?" Lissa pressed, and Robin shot her a concerned look. The tactician picked up on the 'had' in Caim's sentence, but Lissa did not. The conversation was brought to Chrom's attention at the mention of Caim's family, and he sent a worried glance the brunet's way. The brunet prince was too busy absorbed in the fire to notice or even return the gaze.

"She was… she was a good person. I feel like she would have enjoyed your company," He answered, giving away no real information. "She deserves to be here more than I do." Caim whispered under his breath, quiet enough that no one would be able to hear it. Chrom let out a small 'ah', before joining in on the conversation.

"Caim, you haven't eaten yet, right? You must be famished." The steel blue-eyed prince observed, reaching over Robin and Lissa to hand Caim his skewer. "Here, have mine. It should be finished cooking. I'll go make another one." Before the fallen prince could decline, Chrom had already made his way to the sack of salted raw meat.

Caim studied the bear skewer carefully, before taking a large bite out of it. He hadn't realised how starving he really was, but once that meat landed on his taste buds, he turned ravenous. How long had he been in that field for? Not that he really wanted to think about it—all he wanted to think about was the food in front of him. He took large bites out of the skewer, but was careful to not make a mess of himself. He was royalty, after all. Yet still, he earned strange looks from the other Shepherds. Not that he cared—Caim was too hungry to care. He ate fast, he ate large, but he ate neatly and near silently. He paused his eating only to raise a brow at Lissa, prompting her to speak her mind.

"Uh… how do you eat like that?" She queried, taking a small bite out of her own share. Caim just shrugged and continued eating, chewing away at the little pieces of meat stuck to the stick.

"It must be a Midgardian technique." Robin whispered in awe, mouth slightly agape in shock. Frederick ignored the prince and his Shepherd companions to focus on his own meal, before being disturbed by Lissa.

"Thank you for catching this, Frederick. It's surprisingly not as bad as last time." She complimented, squeezing in a touch of teasing.

"It was no problem, milady. I am more than happy to hunt and cook for you and milord." Frederick responded, tipping his head in a slight bow.

"And me too, right?" Robin queried, taking a bite out of his own skewer. Frederick shot an apathetic stare his way, before resuming his quiet eating. Robin broke into a cold sweat, averting his gaze from Frederick and back to the bear meat in his hands. Caim couldn't help but let out an uncharacteristic chuckle at the scene, earning the surprised stares of all three Shepherds and the returning Chrom. The dark prince's soft laughter quickly faded out once he became aware of the stares of his newfound allies, and he quickly resumed chewing at the meat still clinging to the skewer. He could still feel the surprised stares of the people surrounding him, but he wasn't going to address it. Caim was trying his best to give off the air of 'nothing bothers me', after all.

"Hey, Caim," Lissa spoke up, tone awkward and hands fidgety. Caim raised a brow and hummed in response, letting her know he was listening. "Did you just laugh?" Caim coughed, turning his head away from the crowd.

"No way. I thought I was hallucinating or something…" Robin muttered, waving his skewer about.

"Yes, I laughed. What of it? Is it against the law in this land?" Caim huffed, finally finishing off his meal and setting the bare skewer aside. Lissa shook her head profusely, embarrassed that she had put the young man on the spot.

"No, of course not! Sorry to be rude, but you just didn't seem like the kind of guy to… laugh. Ever." She reasoned, adding a nervous giggle of her own at the end. Caim just sighed and fell backwards, resting his head on the ground to look up at the stars.

"Oh? I think you've embarrassed him, Lissa." Robin teased, and Lissa folded her arms in irritation.

"I'm not embarrassed." Caim spoke up from his place on the grass, stretching his limbs with a yawn.

"Or not." The albino smiled, finishing off his own meal. Chrom hunched forward, rotating the bear meat so it would cook evenly. He wore a deep frown on his face, as if in unpleasant thought. Frederick picked up on this immediately, and ceased his eating to address the scowl on his prince's face.

"Milord, is something troubling you?" The great knight queried, portraying nothing but stiff seriousness. Chrom was pulled out of his thoughts, eyes wide at being suddenly called out.

"Ah… it's nothing. Fret not." The prince dismissed with a wave of his hand, averting Frederick's worried stare. Caim, Lissa and Robin's attention was quickly drawn to Chrom and his odd behaviour. Robin was the first to speak up from amongst the three, and the tone in his voice was friendly and caring.

"You can tell us, Chrom. You know we'll always listen to you, right?" The tactician comforted, resting a gloved hand on the blue haired man's shoulder. Chrom let out a sigh and then turned to Frederick, before looking to the other three Shepherds beside him.

"It's just about…" He scowled, glaring into his cooking meat. Lissa looked back at Caim with a worried look, and Caim returned her glance with a shrug. "Lissa, I have a question." The princess in question was surprised at being the object of Chrom's discomfort, and immediately whipped her head around to face him.

"What's up, Chrom?" She queried, tilting her head. Chrom lifted his head to look at her, a painful look cast over his face.

"You were so shaken up during that battle, but now, you're acting like nothing even happened." The Ylissean prince began, voice serious and near menacing, "How did you recover from… _that_? You've still barely fought at all, and even I felt queasy at the sheer amount of gore we were all exposed to." The prince's eyes darted to Caim's for only a moment, blaming the Midgardian's berserker techniques for all the death everyone was witness to. Caim turned his head to the side, averting Chrom's judgemental stare and looking to the shadowed grass by his face instead.

"What do you mean, 'gore'?" Lissa asked, bringing a curious finger to her chin. Chrom's brows arched in surprise, and even Robin was confused at the princess' words. How could anyone not know what he meant by gore? The whole plaza was filled with blood and guts.

"How could you not know what I mean? The whole square was slick with blood! It was unforgettable. You were so distraught, Lissa. You looked like you were ready to break at any minute, and now…" Chrom bit his lip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Now, you're acting like you were never there."

"Sorry, I just… don't remember the battle very well." She confessed, steel-blue eyes filled with innocence. "And I don't remember seeing _that_ much blood, Chrom. Are you sure you're not exaggerating?"

"Pardon me for interrupting, but," Frederick spoke up, earning four of the Shepherds' attention, "Milady, do you truly not remember? The battlefield was an unforgettable sight. However, something much more traumatising occurred right before your very eyes." The great knight's voice was grim, a dark expression etched onto his face. Lissa raised a single brow, urging her retainer to continue. "Milady, Caim slaughtered a child right in front of you. Do you not remember?"

Lissa's eyes widened, and she immediately looked to her feet. Her hands were shaking, steadying only when she clenched them into fists in her lap.

"I thought you said the brigands killed him?" Lissa pushed. In truth, she did not want the answer to all her questions. She did not want to have the gaps in her mind filled in. Yet she asked that last question, because she believed in the goodness inside Caim. Yet no words hit her ears, no reality hit her brain, only the dreadful silence that weigh heavily on her shoulders served as her answer. And that silence spoke; 'It was all Caim'.

Lissa turned her head to look at the man who lied by her side. He had his palms behind his neck, legs bent lazily on the grass. He looked content, at peace, like the opposite of the bloodthirsty murderer Chrom and Frederick were making him out to be. Lissa stared, digging her eyes into the back of his head, hoping that Caim would turn to face her. Hoping that he would deny that he killed a fellow Ylissean. Caim could feel her eyes burning into his neck, could feel her desperation, her disbelief; but he didn't dare confront her stare. He wasn't afraid of what she thought—why would he care?—he just wanted this conversation to be finished so he could go into his tent and sleep.

"Caim." The deep voice of Chrom spoke up, earning a hum from Caim in response, "Tell her." In all honesty, the warrior prince felt agitated at being told what to do. Why should he? What Lissa doesn't know won't hurt her. Caim would have stayed silent, if it weren't for the feelings present in Chrom's three words. It's just because I've missed my voice, he told himself, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Did he feel guilty for ruining the princess' innocence? No, it must be something else that was like lead in his stomach.

"I killed most of the brigands," Caim finally spoke, head turning to look up at the skies above, "and the hostage."

"You were so blinded by bloodlust that you mistook the boy for the brigand." Frederick spat, eyes full of disgust, "You should be ashamed of yourself." Everyone's eyes turned to the ground, out of guilt for not stopping Caim's rampage sooner. All except Caim, who couldn't find any ounce of shame in his body. The prince brought himself up, legs laying straight in front of him. He shrugged, earning a menacing glare from the great knight.

"I'll be excusing myself. My thanks to whoever set up my tent." Caim spoke, dismissing himself from the group. The Shepherds stared at him with disbelief as Caim stood up and walked to his tent, disappearing behind the flaps. The air was thick and heavy with dread—the only thing keeping Lissa from losing it was the fact that, even though she was told what happened, she could not recount the events in her mind herself. So long as she had no memory of Caim's rampage, it never happened, is what she said to reassure herself.

As Caim laid in his sleeping bag, he couldn't help but think of the innocence the people of Ylisse possess. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before—surely the amount of blood Caim had shed was not as much as everyone said it was. During the war against the Empire, the battlefield was much, much gorier. Not to mention, children died during the war every day—whether they be innocent civilians or under aged soldiers. What reason did Lissa have to react like that? Chrom had said she hadn't fought much, but surely she had seen a dead body or two before. What was so traumatising about the murder of a child that her mind forced her to forget the event ever happened? Ylisseans are far too sensitive, Caim deduced, before falling fast asleep.

* * *

Caim's sleep was uncomfortable, and as soon as the bonfire went out in the middle of the night, he was overcome with the sheer cold and darkness of that night. It was nothing he wasn't used to, but when one spends most of the night's hours awake, alone with one's thoughts, one may greet the dawn of the next day with a touch of agitation. Caim exited his tent with a massive bedhead and a scowl that could scare away the meanest of monsters, reflecting his inner mind's turmoil and overall infuriation at being awake when he wished for sleep instead. Scanning the camp, he noticed both Chrom and Frederick were awake as well, taking down their respective tents and packing up whatever was left over from last night. Chrom was the first of the two to notice the bed-headed brunet, and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Caim, good morning," He spoke in between rolling his tent. Caim walked up to the Ylissean prince, standing a respectful distance away from him. "I would like to apologise for last night's behaviour." The marked man's smile suddenly flipped upside down, a look of guilt cast across his face, "I truly do not know what came over me… Please accept my most humble of apologies." Caim looked displeased from last night's sleep, and Chrom mistook it for the apology meaning nothing to the foreign prince. Of course, it meant little to Caim, yet he still waved his hand in dismissal.

"It did not bother me in the slightest." The bedhead prince spoke, and Chrom breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, Frederick's deep voice rose from behind the both of them, drawing both of the princes' attention.

"Caim, would it trouble you to pack up your tent? And pray awaken the princess and Robin while you're at it." The retainer ordered, turning away before Caim even had the chance to retort. The annoyed prince rolled his eyes, stepping away from Chrom without a word and began to approach Robin's tent.

Caim lifted a single flap of the tent, spying a sleeping Robin with messy white hair and loose pyjamas. He was sleeping soundlessly, looking calm and content. Caim was instantly angry at the sight—how dare Robin have a better night's sleep than him?—and instantly threw off the cover of the sleeping bag he was in.

"It's time to get up." Caim abruptly spoke, voice harsh and glare dangerous. The albino tactician could feel the fiery stare of the warrior who had invaded his tent, and opened a tired eye to look at the intruder. Once he realised it was Caim who had spoken, the tactician sat up instantly, eyes wide in both surprise and fear. He opened his mouth to say something, but Caim had already turned and left, the entrance to the tent fluttering behind him.

Next, Caim trudged his way to Lissa's tent, posture stiff with frustration. Why must he do these mundane jobs, he wondered, whispering near-silent curses under his breath. Why must he, the prince of Caerleon, most powerful warrior in all of Midgard, do such a simple task? Surely this would better suit Frederick's occupation, not his. Honestly, Caim was in the mood to stomp in some heads—starting with Frederick's and following with whoever got in his way first. The only thing keeping him from slaughtering them all here and now was the fact that without them, he would have no assistance in taking back Midgard from the dragons. With a frustrated sigh, he flipped open the curtain to Lissa's tent.

The princess of Ylisstol was sleeping peacefully, yet not so sprawled out as Robin once was. She was wrapped up in a frilly nightgown, feet peeking out from under the covers of her unzipped sleeping bag. Her long blonde locks were let loose and crawled all over her pillow, her face showing no signs of disturbance.

"Lissa," Caim called, voice apathetic, "Lissa. It's time to get up. We're about to depart." He wished to wake her up gently, reasoning that if someone were to rudely awaken his little sister, he would have surely pummelled them for it. Yet Lissa did not stir, her princess-like sleep being undisturbed by the warrior who stood at her feet. "Lissa." He spoke, a little louder this time, "Lissa." Once more, volume increasing, "Lissa, we're packing up. If you don't get up, we'll leave without you." He spoke, tone aggressive. Lissa let out a trembling whimper before breaking out into a yawn, turning on her side and burrowing her head deep into the covers.

"Just a few more minutes, Frederick…" She spoke tiredly, more into the sheets than into the air. Caim's frown instantly deepened, obviously offended at being mistaken for Frederick.

"It's Caim. Get up, now." He ordered, voice deep and full of menace. Lissa was instantly riddled with chills and opened both eyes, turning in her bed to face the prince that had so rudely awakened her. She wanted to ask why he was here, only briefly forgetting the fact that no normal man stood before her. A cold blooded killer, out for Ylissean blood, stood before her. At least, in her eyes, that's what she saw. With Caim's unkempt hair and his dagger-shooting glare, he looked wild, stunning Lissa to the point she couldn't speak. Normally the princess was not one to judge, not one to discriminate, but she couldn't help but wish that she had never met Caim. Of course, she doesn't remember anything, and everyone could be playing a sick prank on her, but she had the feeling that Caim truly was a blood thirsty monster, especially since that such topic was raised last night. Caim's glare eased for only a moment before he exited the tent, leaving Lissa to herself.

* * *

Caim was quick in rolling up his sleeping bag and swag, and swift with the dismantlement of his tent. Not to say he had done it much before, but he found taking anything apart easy, whether it be humans or tents. By the time he had finished, Robin had finished getting dressed and began dismantling his own tent. Caim approached the fumbling tactician, and before the albino could protest, began to take it apart.

"Do not get the wrong idea. I just want to leave soon, and with the way you were fumbling about, I doubted this task would be completely quickly." Caim reasoned, his morning scowl being reduced to his usual neutral expression.

"Oh, uh… thanks?" Robin responded, expression uncomfortable, borderline grimacing. Caim paid it no mind and dismantled majority of the tent, leaving the last steps to Robin. The prince scoured the campsite, eyes landing on Frederick and Chrom, helping Lissa dismantle her own tent. Lissa's eyes caught Caim's for but a brief moment, before she turned to talk to Chrom, most likely protesting how delicate she really is. "Do you think we should help them?" Robin queried, slinging the bag his tent was in over his shoulder. Caim shrugged.

"I believe three people can handle a single tent. Besides, the more people there are helping out means that more chaos will ensue. Too many people only leads to confusion." Caim responded, setting himself on the ground with his legs crossed. Robin sat beside him, legs straight out in front of him.

"You know, Caim," He spoke up, grabbing the prince's attention, "You talk a lot." Caim raised a brow at this, confusion obvious on his princely face.

"What do you mean by that?" He queried, hunching forward. Robin waved his hands about, struggling to come up with a politer way to word what he just said.

"I mean… When you do talk, it's normally always long sentences," He managed to cover up, an innocent smile spread across his cheeks, "such as just then. You said 'what do you mean by that' instead of 'beg pardon', for example." Caim nodded his head, before turning to look at the three packing away Lissa's tent.

"And? What relevance does that have to anything?" The prince queried, voice uncaring and face pulled neutral.

"I suppose it was only an observation on my part." The tactician replied, both hands clasped together in his lap, "Mayhap it is a Midgardian tendency?"

"Mayhap. Or, it could perhaps be the fact that I was completely mute until only yesterday." Caim added, earning a curious look from Robin. The light-haired man nodded his head once, prompting the foreigner to continue. "Do you know of the concept of pacts?" Caim asked. Robin tilted his head in thought, before shaking it.

"No, I'm afraid not. I know not a lot besides war tactics and fighting. What are these pacts? The same as usual deals?" Robin queried, eager for new information.

"No, they are quite different. When a human makes a pact with a beast, both of their souls become as one, and both share incredible power. The human must pay a price for this pact, and each price varies." Caim began to explain, looking down at the dirt in front of him, "I was in a pact with a red dragon, and gave up my most important aspect for it; my voice. But once our pact came to an end, I was able to speak once more." Robin let out a low whistle, impressed that Caim was in consort with dragons.

"To be involved with a dragon... it is almost like a fairy tale." Robin observed, speaking his thoughts, "Yet what became of this dragon? Where is it now?"

"I killed her." Caim replied bluntly, staring down at his gloved fingertips.

"But did you not have a pact?" Robin asked, leaning forward, intrigued. Caim shrugged.

"Certain circumstances pulled us apart. It was fate for our pact to be broken." The prince tapped on his damaged breast plate, a dull echo resounding through the tactician's ears. "The state of my armour is more than adequate in explaining just how difficult being pulled apart from her was. It was a miracle I was not the one who was killed." Caim's blue eyes clearly portrayed the deep sadness he felt in his heart at the loss of his pact-partner, and Robin was not blind to the feeling being thrust before him. Although the bloodthirsty prince's face was completely aloof and uncaring, his lowered stare spoke volumes.

"I'm… I'm sorry for your loss, Caim." Robin winced, looking down at his hands. Caim sighed in response, looking up to the clear sky above.

"You do not need to apologise. There was nothing you could have done," The prince reassured (which was a rather strange thing for him to do), "Besides, this is the most peace I've ever had in a long, long while. It's almost as if I'm on vacation from—" From the Empire. How could he just sit here while there was still a chance the Empire didn't fall apart? How could he still sit here while the Union was getting destroyed by dragons? How could he sit here while there were enemies to cut down? Ylisse was far too peaceful, and it was messing with his head. He couldn't forget who he was. Merciless, a one-man army, a landless prince going against the Empire and the dragons for revenge.

"Caim? Are you alright?" Robin spoke up, breaking the prince's thoughts. Caim looked to the young man beside him then back up at the remaining Shepherds, just finishing up packing the tent.

"I need to go back to Midgard as soon as possible. But with the way I am now, without a proper sword to call my own, without an army to lead, I doubt that task to be a feasible one." Caim began to ramble, blue eyes focused on the three some distance away from him. "I have to go to Ylisstol and talk to the Exalt as soon as possible."

"You wish to speak with the Exalt? For what reason?" Robin queried as Caim stood up, slinging the sack that held the Shepherds' extra sleeping bag and tent.

"I wish to request her assistance in destroying the Empire." Caim replied, walking off to meet with the prince, princess and retainer in the distance.

"Request her assistance…?" Robin muttered, watching Caim leave before getting up himself and following after him.

Lissa met Caim with a smile and a bounce in her step, yet deep in her steel-blue eyes lay doubt and a sense of disquiet. Still, she spoke as if nothing was wrong, earning concerned stares from both Chrom and Frederick.

"Good morning, Caim! Had a bad sleep?" She asked, rocking on her heels, blonde hair swaying by her shoulders.

"I suppose so. How could you tell?" Caim queried, deadpan.

"The state of your hair reveals all." Lissa winked, motioning towards his bedhead. The prince quirked a brow before ruffling his hair, setting it back to normal. "That's better! Can't have a prince looking un-princely, after all."

"Right." He quickly acknowledged, before turning to face Chrom, "When will we be departing?"

"Now, if you are ready." Chrom answered, face friendly. "Eager to get to Ylisstol, are we?"

"Mayhap." Caim responded bluntly, waiting for Chrom to make a move. "You lead the way, Chrom. I'll follow."

"Alright." The blue-haired man responded, looking in his tactician's direction, "Are you ready, Robin?"

"Yes, I'm ready." He replied swiftly, adjusting his coat.

"Ok, we should arrive by nightfall. No dawdling the rest of the way, alright?" The Ylissean prince spoke, looking down at Lissa.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. C'mon, let's go already!" Lissa spoke up, quickly marching in front of the group and taking the lead. Chrom wore a fond smile on his face, the kind of face Caim used to make whenever he saw Furiae happy. Frederick followed the young royal siblings soon after, Robin and Caim dragging just behind. Whatever awaited Caim in Ylisstol, he hoped it to be worth his time.


End file.
